


What Lies Beyond

by Lovecomesinattheeyes



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovecomesinattheeyes/pseuds/Lovecomesinattheeyes
Summary: Jon is Lord Commander after the events in Kings Landing. He is visited by Daenerys, but is it just in his nightmares?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of A Song of Ice and Fire. These characters belong to GRRM.

He woke with with a sudden jerk, his face covered in wetness and his heart hammering within his chest. A mournful sob ripped through the silence of the room as he collapsed into himself. His small cot bowing under his weight as he shifted into a sitting position, toes curling into the furs beneath him. His elbows propped on his knees he let himself continue to cry, more silently now, but the tears flowed hot down his cheeks and were lost in the rough whiskers of his beard.

Her face was all he saw when he closed his eyes at night now. Her wide eyes alight in recognition, her brow furrowed in disbelief, lips parted to allow a last soft gasp and the color draining from her face before the blood began to flow from the corner of her mouth and trickle down her cheek.

He had to do it. He told himself over and over. She would never have stopped.

"We could stay here a thousand years and no one would find us." He heard her words echoing in his ears, the memory stirring another sobbing gasp.

Would she have stopped, if he had asked her? Had anyone asked her what it would take to stop? She was in pain. He knew she had lost so much, knew that it was his fault. He had seen the hurt in her eyes whenever he had pulled away from her kiss. He had seen her vulnerability and rather than come to her and be her support, he shied away from her out of guilt.

Now he was more guilty than ever. Oathbreaker. Queenslayer. Kinslayer. He deserved to be exiled. Hells, he deserved worse. He was surprised he hadn't been executed. He would do it himself if he felt that it wasn't the cowards way out. He had been dead before, knew the emptiness that awaited, had resigned her to that fate. Now he denied it to himself, forced to live with the pain of killing his true love.

In weak moments he would think about how simple things were before he had brought her back to Winterfell. How easy it was to fall into her bed and spend hours lost in her touch, in her gaze, in her heat. He would find himself aroused and craving something he would never have again.

Now all he had was the cold. The snow. The loneliness. He took a couple of steadying breaths and wiped his face before lifting his head to stare at the white pile of fur laying next to his cot, the slow rise and fall of his direwolf slumbering. Well, he wasn't entirely alone, but Ghost didn't supply much in the way of conversation.

Jon laid back down and stared blankly at the rafters of his small shack. He wouldn't allow himself the comfort of Castle Black, so he built this small cottage a short distance from the heart tree where he first made his vows to the Nights Watch. The low light of the coals spread long shadows through the interior and the soft wind blew through the poorly built thatch roof.

He was just beginning to doze off again, trying to sleep just a bit longer before duty again took him to Castle Black to oversee the skeleton crew that had been placed in his responsibility.

There was one man whom he could rely on to keep tabs on the others, Lord Glover. Sansa had banished him to the Night's watch as recompense for abandoning them during the battle of Winterfell. "If you leave the Watch, your sons will be stripped of their home and sent to live out their days at Castle Black as well." She had threatened. Jon knew the man was stubborn, but also knew he loved his family and that was his reason for having deserted the call of Winterfell in the first place.

He closed his eyes for just a moment as he began thinking of the things he would need to focus on at the start of his day. It had been almost a year since he had returned to the Watch and in that time had begun reparations of the wall and keep, the restocking of supplies and weaponry and was awaiting word from rangers in regards to the wildlings rebuilding their settlements.

The light began to filter through the cracks in the ceiling and under the door when suddenly Ghost lifted his head, his hackles raised and a growl bubbling from low in his chest. Jon sat up, looking from Ghost to the door of his shack.

"What is it boy?" Jon's low voice whispered. Jon stood and pulled his breeches on, and grabbed for Longclaw. Just as he drew his sword Ghost stood, his growl turning to a snarl and his hackles raising.

Jon stood at the door, listening hard. He thought he heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow. The slither of a cloak dragging against fallen leaves. He was certain someone was stalking through the woods. He took a breath and threw the door wide. His eyes landed on the last thing he thought he would ever see, moon touched hair in a crown of braids, blush kissed cheeks, a long flowing gown of gray and bright blue eyes, the likes of which he had only ever seen in the sockets of unearthly, undead beings.

His breath caught and Ghost whimpered behind him. "Dany?" He breathed softly as he dropped his sword to his side and stared in equal parts horror and fascination.

She smiled softly but sadly at him before slipping behind a tree and disappearing from view. He jumped into action pulling his boots on hastily and wrapping his cloak about him. "Stay boy." Ghost whined and sat, huffing in discontent. Jon closed the door behind him and jogged toward the direction he had seen her.

Could it be her? Or was it a trick of his heart sick mind? Was he hallucinating now? If he was, why would his mind have put the blue eyes of the Others in place of her amethyst ones?

His mind was warring with itself and he walked to the point he had seen her, looking out into the forest. The Haunted Forest it was called and now he was beginning to understand it's name. His eye caught movement, a streak of gray disappearing behind another tree a few meters away. He jogged to catch up, his sword held loosely in case it was some sort of trap. What kind of trap and by who he couldn't comprehend, but he felt uneasy as he followed closely.

His eyes kept focused ahead, his ears sharp as he tracked the sound of movement. The light was growing stronger as dawn neared and he stepped out of a line of trees and into a clearing. There were stones placed in a spiral pattern and in the center of them she stood, her back to him, her head bowed as if in prayer.

He stood at the edge of the trees, just watching, trying not blink, fearing that if he did, she would disappear. He briefly wondered if he was dreaming, but felt that if he were he wouldn't feel the bite of the cold so prominently. He felt too aware of himself. He gathered what courage he could and walked toward her, approaching slowly, as if she was a doe he would spook if he came up on her too quickly or agressively. When he got within swords length he stopped.

"Dany?" His voice cracked softly. "Is that you?"

"Yes." Her voice answered. His heart clenched at her reply. It sounded like her, but more crystalline. Like her voice had been sharpened, it wasn't soft anymore. It was hard and there was a bitterness to it.

"How?" He spluttered not understanding her presence in front of him. She did not answer but turned to face him, her eyes down, her gown spread open so that he could see the ugly gash below her breasts but above her navel. It matched the ones he had on his own. He fell to one knee then, one hand on the pommel of Longclaw, the other hand anchored to the ground. "I'm so sorry Dany. I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could choose differently."

"What would you have done?" Her voice pressed. "What would you have said?"

"I would have told you I loved you. Begged you to be with me, to run away from it all. To sail away from this horrid land and let it destroy itself. To find somewhere we could be, just you and I, to live a thousand years where no one could find us." His tears began anew, freezing on his cheeks as he poured all that had been weighing on him out. "I... I..." He lifted his eyes and looked up at her. "What have I done to you?"

Her electric blue eyes unsettled him, but he couldn't look away. He was transfixed. Had she come to claim him, to take his life as he had taken hers? Why had she returned to him like this? How?

"You destroyed me." Her voice echoed hollowly. "You destroyed who I was, what I was. I've become something else now." She reached out to him then bringing her hand toward his face. His brain told him to flee, or fight, to do something. But his selfish heart told him to stay, if for no other reason than to feel her caress once more. He closed his eyes and held his breath. A cold hand embraced his cheek and he felt a surge of fear pass over him before a numbing calm took hold. He leaned into the touch before darkness slipped over him.

He awoke again with a start, the thunderous booming sound of someone knocking at his door. He stumbled onto his feet and took two steps, pushing Ghost aside who was pawing at the floor and whining.

"Lord Commander?" A voice called through the door.

"Yeah," Jon groggily voiced back before unbolting the door and ripping it open. The white direwolf rushed past the figure outside, nearly knocking them down in his haste to alleviate himself on the nearest tree. The figure stepped through the threshold as Jon sat down on the cot, gathering his head in his hands and trying to make sense of his dream.

"I was ordered to come check on you." The youth in front of him stumbled over his words. "You weren't at your post this morning and it's near noon now."

"Noon?" Jon blanched before looking up.

"Lord Commander, your face..." The boy looked concerned.

"What about my face?" He asked rubbing his cheek roughly.

"You look as if you've been slapped. Theres a handprint on your face the color of summer wine."

Jon stood and went to his sword, pulling it out and holding it up so that he could look at his reflection. He did indeed have a perfect handprint blooming pink across his cheek, exactly where he had dreamed that Daenerys had touched him and as he looked down he noticed he had his breeches on and his boots were covered in snow.

"Were you attacked Lord Commander?" The boy asked.

"Perhaps." Jon mumbled as he rubbed his jaw.

"By who?"

"A ghost." Jon looked up and the young man furrowed his brow in concern.

"A ghost?" He echoed, his voice filled with doubt and confusion. "Of who?"

"The woman I loved. The woman I killed." Jon's hollow voice rang like a bad omen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow realizes he truly never knew anything.

Jon stood, a dark sillohuette at the top of the wall, looking out over the Haunted Forest and into the Frostfang mountains. His hand travelled once more to his cheek and he rubbed his jaw lazily as he pondered. Had it all been a dream? Perhaps he struck himself in the night as he was thrashing.

He looked down at the tree line and watched for any kind of movement. Something caught his attention. He focused in and managed to make out a dark shape, a man on horseback. He heard the horn then and tore his eyes away in order to descend back toward the castle.

As the elevator clunked down he found a giant man with a red beard dismounting from his horse in the courtyard. He smiled jovially as his eyes landed on Jon.

"Oi, Little Crow!" Tormund greeted, embracing Jon in a crushing hug. "Looks like you've gotten yerself into a fight." The large man grabbed Jon's cheek and inspected it. "Been seein' anotha' red head wildling woman?" Tormund chuckled and released Jon, slapping him on the shoulder before stepping back to his horse.

"Other than you?" Jon ribbed. "Can't say I have." Tormund guffawed hard as he hoisted a large bundled package onto the ground between them.

"What have you brought?" Jon asked looking at the mysterious package.

"Furs mostly, some meat, a little bit of my fav'rite drink." He shrugged. "And _news."_

"What kind of news?" Jon asked as he beckoned over some men to help unload the rest of Tormund's trade goods.

"The kind folk in my region don't much like the sound of." Tormund's voice lowered. "There've been sightings of blue eyed fucks roaming the Frostfangs."

Jon blanched as if Tormund had just hit him rather than whisper to him. "Are you certain?" He dragged Tormund away from his men and made his way toward his quarters.

"Aye, saw one meself." His voice lost it's boastful edge and became more reserved with the ominous weight of what he was telling Jon. "Some ten miles north o' Crasters Keep. Tracked the fooker into the mountains before I lost the trail."

"How do you know it was an other?" Jon whispered urgently.

"We spent 'ow long fightin' those _things?"_ Tormund answered sharply. "Twasn't the mindless demons we killed at Winterfell, it was like the one ya killed when we came North fo' the capture."

"Did it have dead ones with it?" Jon asked urgently as he shut the door behind Tormund.

"No, it was on it's own. It seemed to only be scoutin' and reportin' back to whoever it was being commanded by." Jon's brow furrowed. "Ye don't seem in as much disbelief as I thought you'd be. I figured ye would tell me I was blowin smoke up yer ass."

Jon sighed as he sat down across from Tormund. "In truth, I think I saw something impossible myself."

"What was it?" Tormund asked.

"I think," Jon rubbed his brow, "I thought I saw Daenerys last night."

"The dragon queen?" Tormund stuttered? "Fooking hell man, I'm being serious. No need te bust me balls with that nonsense."

"I'm not lying." Jon slammed his fist on the table. "And I wasn't dreaming. At least I don't think I was. She touched my cheek and now look." He pointed to the angry blushing hand print above his jaw.

"How the fook would a dead woman end up here?" Tormund argued. "And if she were here, where's her fire breathing beast?"

"I don't know, she didn't explain much last night." Jon growled. "She just showed up, led me to a damn clearing of stones and told me that I destroyed her. I thought I was having a nightmare until I woke up with hours missing from memory and Aedrick pounding on my door. None of it made sense. She wore a gown of silk out in the snow and her eyes were the ice blue that haunted my waking nightmares for years. But Tormund, she had a gash in her chest, the same ones I have in mine. The one I gave her." Jon choked on his own words then and Tormund stared at him for a long time, neither speaking.

"So, do we think what we're seeing isn't just ghosts of the past?" Tormund finally broke the silence. "Are they... real _?"_

"I don't know." Jon shrugged. "If you've seen one and I've seen one, then there has to be _some_ validity to it. We need to keep a sharp eye, burn fires at all times of the night. I'll send a raven to Winterfell and request some of the leftover dragonglass."

"Aye," Tormund nodded and swallowed thickly. "I'll be needing some for my men, and women, hells even the children if you can spare enough."

"I'll ask for as much as I can." Jon answered stiffly.

A short time later Jon and Tormund exited the tunnel from Castle Black, both on horses, Tormund's weighed down more by the supplies he traded.

"Well Lord Crow," Tormund huffed. "Keep a sharp eye, I'll come check on ye in a fortnight unless I see or hear something more."

"Aye" Jon nodded as he split off toward the West to his shack.

The sun had retreated below the tree line and was spreading shadows long across the snow. Ghost trotted loyally aside Jon but as they neared the shack he began to whine and fall back. Jon noted the direwolf's behavior and held his horse back for a moment.

He glanced around the area looking for any hint of an ambush, or enemy. The wind rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees but there didn't seem to be any further movement so the horse was prodded to continue. He tied the black mare up in the small stable a few yards from his shack and heard a low rumbling growl coming from Ghost. Jon saw that Ghost was staring directly at the door of the shack and readied himself for anything as he strode to the small abode.

As he approached he noticed the door was ajar, just slightly. Resting one hand on the pommel of Longclaw, Jon pushed the door the rest of the way open and scanned the small room. It seemed empty enough so he stepped in. Just as he did a high wind gusted through the small room and slammed the door shut behind him. He jumped away from the portal and as he turned he had to stop himself from yelling aloud, for there stood his queen again.

"Hello Jon," her voice cracked like ice from beneath the cloak that hid her face.

"Seven hells Dany," Jon breathed as he took another step away from the door she stood next to. "I wasn't dreaming. You're actually here." Jon could hear Ghost whining at the door and pacing out front. The figure in front of him didn't move but Jon stared, frozen in place before managing to croak, "Show me your face." There was a moment's pause before Daenerys slowly reached up and removed the hood. Jon gasped softly again at seeing the alien eyes peering up at him. "How?" Jon took a step toward his once lover.

"I don't owe you an explanation." Daenerys' cold voice responded. "Just know as a result of everything that happened, I have been changed and now, I am here to show you the truth."

"The truth?" Jon sputtered.

"Yes, Jon Snow." Dany's piercing eyes fixed him with a cold stare. "The Night King was not what you thought him to be. Bran is not Bran and he used us, used Winterfell, used the Starks as a means to his own end. There has always been more to the Three Eyed Raven than we knew and I'm here to reveal his treachery."

Jon huffed and turned away from her. "You're just trying to turn me against my family." Jon accused as he sat down on the edge of his small mattress.

"Yes, I am." Daenerys agreed, which caused Jon to look up at her in confusion. "Because your family has turned it's back on you. They were never your family. When you were young they were your father's true born children. When you found out you were a Targaryen and that I was your only true family, look what they made you do to me." Jon stood suddenly and Daenerys pulled her cloak back far enough to reveal the ugly mark on her abdomen, stopping him in his tracks. He felt his throat close at the sight and was made speechless once more, lowering his eyes in shame.

"Perhaps it would be best to show you what I mean..." Daenerys took one step toward him, then another. She stood chest to chest with Jon and he felt her magnetic gaze lift his chin. She slowly inched her face toward his until her mouth was millimeters away from his own. He closed his eyes and held his breath, every hair on the back of his neck stood at attention as he waited for her to kiss him. But she didn't and when he opened his eyes, he wasnt standing in the one room shack anymore.

He stood in a dark cave filled with gnarled white branches. Before him sat a withered man on a throne of weirwood roots, no not on, in. They seemed to be growing through him, or out of him, Jon wasn't sure which, but the old man's eyes stared straight ahead, white as milk. Jon watched for a moment before movement out of the corner of his vision caught his attention. He snapped his head to the side and watched as a small lithe form approached the old man. She seemed to be a living plant and Jon had heard enough of old Nan's tales to correlate her to the children of the forest.

She carried with her an offering, blood red in color, but thicker than the liquid that Jon was all too familiar with. Jon froze, hoping to not be seen but his feet would not. It was like the man in front of him was rooted where he was. The small being approached the old man and waited for a moment. Suddenly the man's eyes snapped shut and reopened just as quickly, this time they focused on the small girl in front of him.

"He is on his way." The old man croakily whispered. "He has made it north of the wall."

"Is the greenseer still with him?" The being spoke back as she offered him the bowl.

"Yes, but he grows weaker the further north they travel. He will expire soon."

"Good." She nodded. "He knows too much."

The old man took a sip of the red swill and nodded in agreement.

"His sister might be a problem." The old man managed to say before handing the bowl back.

"I'll worry about her. If she gets too close to him, or if she asks too many questions I'll dispatch her." The green skinned girl took the bowl back and stepped to his side.

"Hopefully you won't need to. Besides he may need her to return him to Winterfell." The man's hand waved dismissively.

"Should he not make it here, what would happen?" The small girl wondered aloud.

"If he does not make it North, then the Night King will not move South. His task will be done. He will have killed the greatest threat to the land. This Brandon Stark will replace me however and if he succeeds where I and the others before me failed, then the time of men will come to an end. The threats against the children of the forest will be gone and you may lead them into a new era. You may reclaim Westeros."

The diminutive girl smiled, an ominous grin split her face before she turned her eyes to Jon's. He felt himself shout and tried to lunge, but he couldn't move and before he knew it he was snapped back into his one room shack at the edge of the Haunted Forest. He was staring into Daenerys' blue eyes again and he knew now what he didn't understand before. The Night King was never after him, never after the living, he was after one person. He was after Bran.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on Tumblr. Will probably be a few more chapters.


End file.
